


How Mammon Gets Down To Popping The Question

by MayoraSadist



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: F/M, Marriage Proposal, Misadventures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:47:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23302660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayoraSadist/pseuds/MayoraSadist
Summary: General head-canons for how Mammon might propose to you.
Relationships: Main Character/Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 187





	How Mammon Gets Down To Popping The Question

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy Mammon’s misadventures in asking for the MC’s hand in marriage!

  * It’s _agonizing._ Way too much for his ~~two~~ brain cells. He has so graciously allowed you to date _the_ Great Mammon (he’s head over heels in love but you didn’t hear that from this liar).



_You_ are in love with him. (He absolutely adores you; you’re the moon and the stars – no greater, you’re more precious than all the money Mammon has ever seen in his life, the sheer greed and desire to possess you completely for an eternity, the joy of it – unfathomable.)

And also… he sees how sappy you are for those romantic comedies of yours; one you watched the other day about a runaway bride and then proceeded to weep at the ending. ~~No. _No_. Those were not tears you saw in his eyes~~. And although, he found it to be a tedious watch, he was still surprised by the way you threw your arms around him, sobbing into his chest as you’d told him you loved him over and over–

_“H-Hey now, what’s up with ya?”_

–and suffice to say, your demon was left uncomfortably hot under the collar and burning, once you were done with your sob fest.

_“So… weddings are your thing, eh?”_

_“They’re a thing for many humans, me included.” But then you laughed in a way that had his heart tripping over its own beats, his eyes involuntarily sweeping across the tears still gathered at the corners of your eyes._ _Damn beautiful. “It would be a chore having a husband like you, Mammon.”_

_“Hey! Whaddya mean by that, huh?!” He’s over you in a second, fingers pinching at your cheeks as he demands you take your insolent words back._

_“O-Okay… haha stop– I’d still love to get married to you, dummy.”_

_There it is again. That odd sensation within his heart. “Oh but I guess marriage really isn’t a demonic custom, is it?”_

_It isn’t. But it’s something he’d like to experience. ~~With you.~~ _

  * Mammon’s up and banging on Levi’s door the very next morning, ordering a very disgruntled and sleep-deprived Leviathan, as soon as he opens the door– to lend him games and manga from the human world on the theme of marriage.



Levi’s giving him an odd look, a quick once-over before bursting into peals of laughter, nodding over and over in understanding before retreating back into the room.

_“H-Hey! It’s not whatever you’re thinkin’! It’s not that alright, you bastard! Levi?!”_

He’s back soon, arms loaded with the best of his stash; thrusting it Mammon’s way with a– “Only for _her_ though. You better return these to me later or I’ll curse you, Stupid Mammon!” He hums, apparently in a good mood before slamming the door right in a stuttering Mammon’s face.

_There’s no way that nerd knows what’s up! Mammon’s just… bored, that’s what!_

  * ~~According to the comics Levi lent him~~ Marriages require a ring for something called _getting engaged_ first.



Rings are easy to acquire. There’s even a sale going on for some nice gargoyle spit-fire rings at the moment.

Mammon’s first instinct is to raid ~~Lucifer’s study~~ the house for valuables and sell his loot to buy you that ring, even at the cost of inciting Lucifer’s wrath but he remembers the one incident, when you caught him swiping the library clean of historic artifacts – the disappointed look you’d given him… and he stops short.

_Acquiring a ring is not much use if you refuse to accept it in the end._

And that’s how your demon lands himself _two_ jobs: at Hell’s Kitchen and the Fall (albeit a few deceitful strings were pulled), working himself to the bone, day and night – he has never dedicated himself to something this utterly ridiculous in his life and yet… the image of your awestruck face when he finally presents the wedding band to you, like the heroines in one of those shoujo manga Levi lent him, puts an extra boost in his step as he runs around serving Titan Crabs (Beel and Belphie caught him working at Hell’s Kitchen once and later described Mammon to the others: _It was as if a cursed spirit had possessed him. He was rushing throughout the entire restaurant, in between tables and then into the kitchens as if Cerberus himself were after him)_

The Fall’s frequenters have similar tales to share of a very amusing Mammon playing at bartending, even though he was messing up half the drinks, Asmodeus regales with a laugh over dinner one night sans Mammon of course; the demon in question, working jobs late into the night.

You’re surprised to say the least, and worried.

_Has he landed himself in debts? Are witches chasing him?_

Your demon is hard to get a hold of despite all your concerns, carefully avoiding you and running off at the first sight of you and admittedly… you are hurt. _What is that idiot playing at now?_

  * Once the ring’s down, all he needs is a fancy suit. And you.



He’s filching one of Lucifer’s elaborate suits from his closet when the man’s out, a pair of fancy shoes from Satan and some hair-styling products from Asmodeus to make himself look the part.

The man has no idea of the exaggerations sometimes put into fiction and so, he assumes the fancy clothing to be an essential part of the proposal.

He has this planned out; that one anime, “Maid For Takumi” provided some _stellar_ studymaterial, to put into action and now, all he needs is to find you.

He spots you on your way back from kitchen duty and makes his way towards you but–

A shout rings out in the hallways and Mammon whips around to notice Asmo giving chase; gibbering hysterical, something about a hair spray he stole and Mammon’s _not_ about to let any of his idiot brothers ruin his perfect plans.

Breaking into a run, he seizes your hand as you raise it in greeting, dragging you along, until you both are darting down the stairs – Satan and Lucifer now on your tail, upon the discovery of their missing items – and out the front door.

Running and running until you’re both out of breath and he has you dragged out to one of the peak date-spots of Devildom: Crooked Witch Hill, overlooking glittering spires below.

  * He has never been here with you before but the sight of writhing bodies in the darkness, moans filtering out of the woods lining the Hill has him squirming, cheeks heating up, every minute he’s forced to endure the sounds of unknown creatures making-out in your vicinity.



Mammon’s about to drag you off again before you stop him, pressing close to his side as you whisper a thanks, chuckling at the heat you find burning at his cheeks. “Let me guess, Asmo told you this was a great dating spot to bring me to?”

“Hah? Who’d ever listen to that frivolous, good-for-nothing…”

“Mammon, you’re even dressed up this nicely. What’s up?” You lean against the railing, overlooking the twinkling, preternatural lights of Devildom, the crooked smile on your face ready to tip into a full-blown grin as you eye his flustered state and–

The sight has him dry in the mouth; you’re a vision and nothing in all of Hell or Heaven could compare to the sight of you in this moment. As if on instinct, the few, hasty sessions of practice at proposing, come into play and he’s falling to his knees in front of you.

“Mammon?” A frisson of concern tugs at your voice and you move to crouch as well before he’s stopping you with a tremulous yell.

“S-Stay right there, moron. Don’t ya move! Lemme do this right!”

Palms sweaty; he moves to wipe them down the front of his borrowed trousers, hands curling into tightened fists before he begins, “You’re a nuisance, a real pain in the ass, ya know that?”

“Okay…?”

”Stupid! You’re not s’pposed to respond until I’m done!”

You clam up at that, waiting for him to continue whatever he’s saying, wherever he’s going with his long-winded confession.

“But you’re one human I’ve learned to live with…”

“Even though you’re dumb.” He trips over words to tap on that insult, at the sight of the smile tugging at your lips.

“But even if you are, I can’t… I’m _saying_ I ain’t livin’ without ya, ever! I order you to stay right here! With me! Marry me, you disgustingly beautiful human!” And he thrusts the ring your way, holding it out to you as if it’s a venomous demon bug. One that would bite him if you do not accept it soon.

Silence descends. The quiet rustling of trees, bringing with it the sounds of couples making out, the only sounds that reach his ears. His heart stuttering over its own beats. Mammon sneaks a tentative look up at you, disconcerted at the lack of your response.

“This is where you answer me, dammit…” He mutters, exhilaration ebbing away into the depths of misery– before you’re fisting your hands into the lapels of his jacket, hauling your surprised demon off of his knees, setting him staggering into you until your back catches against the railing and his lips against yours – and you’re kissing him, furious and wanting, soft then consuming.

It’s almost _too much_ for him; the kiss stimulating him in unspeakable ways, until you, mercifully, let go, to whisper, _“Yes, yes and you’re the moron,”_ before slipping the ring, the color of ashes – like Mammon’s hair – onto your finger.

Your newly affianced demon is too far gone to protest as your mouth settles against his once more; his own hands, eager and wanting; trailing down the sides of your body before gripping at your ass, pulling you firm against his hips and grinding in an effort to relieve the effects of your passion on him until–

_“LMFAOOOO hold up, you two! T-This… this is getting way too 18+ for the viewers!”_

The spell is broken by raucous laughter, a volley of disappointed sighs and exaggerated cries following soon after and you turn in unison to see your family, having chased you and Mammon… watching you two with varying expressions of amusement and horror.

It’s not a night Mammon would’ve planned but you’ve agreed to be his and so he believes a celebration party is in order. ~~_Of course you’re paying!_~~


End file.
